January comes waltzing into rooms like a boss, hair all in place, glasses pushed up on the bridge of her nose, clipboard in hand, announcing her intentions: We’ll plan the year. We’ll do it right this time.

While I admire her gumption and the way she continues to show up at my doorstep year after blessed year, I also know the truth: while having a plan has helped me navigate a lot of decisions in my life, the actual results of my plan were rarely (if ever) part of the plan.

Five years ago if you would have told me I would be making a full time income online by going into business with my Dad and a guy named Brian I hadn’t met yet, I would have laughed at you and called you crazy.

That’s not a thing, I’d say. I don’t even know what a membership site is, I’d say.

Making a full time income by running a membership site for writers was not part of my plan.

In January of 2014 (that’s five years ago) here’s what was part of my plan:

Continue to share my just released book, A Million Little Ways, all about how to access your own version of creativity as a person made in the image of God

Connect with peers of mine, authors doing the same kind of work as I was (for support and encouragement)

Find an easier way to answer the question I got asked most often in my email inbox: How did you get your book published?

Figure out how to connect with readers without having to leave my house

I had plans to write, to connect, and to serve. But I didn’t know exactly what that would end up looking like.

Five years later, it looks like hope*writers, our online membership community for any writer who wants to share words with a reader.

We only open our doors for new members for a few days three times a year. We’re open now until Friday at midnight (1/25).

And if writing isn’t something you’re interested in, here’s this: maybe January has been bossing you a little too hard.

Tell her to calm down. Instead, start to pay attention to what makes you come alive, where the needs are that you think you can help to meet, and what questions you have that other people might have, too.

I hope you’ll pay attention to what bothers you. In my experience, what’s bothering me is the best kind of catalyst to move toward hopeful change.

Here’s to making plans and holding them loosely.

If you’re a writer and have been paying half-attention to what we’re doing at hope*writers over the last few years but you’re on the fence, watching from the sidelines, or any other metaphor that means you’ve been holding back, I hope you’ll take a step to learn more before the doors close on Friday January 25 at midnight PST.

If you want to . . .

know what it takes to move from writing in private to writing for a reader (no matter what genre)

learn how to shepherd a book from idea to published

grow your email list and serve your readers well

connect with other writers all over the world without having to leave your house

In an effort to continue to serve those who aren’t podcast listeners I’m sharing today’s episode of The Next Right Thing Podcast here on the blog. If you’d prefer to listen, tune in to this 3 minute episode, A Blessing for the New Year.

We have all quietly stepped over the invisible threshold, the old slipping away into last year and the new presenting herself before us, waiting.

In the turning of the year, no one is immune, no one is over-looked or left out. We are in this together.

And so we begin another year-long journey, bags packed whether we realize it or not. If we don’t pay attention, those self-packing bags tend to fill up heavy with burdens we don’t need.

Today, take a peek into your bag. What do you see on top?
Do you see shame tucked in on the side?
Is comparison hiding in the zipped up pouch?
Is fear rolled up tight and heavy on the bottom?

Recognize what is making your own pack feel heavy and consider replacing those items today. There are lighter bundles to bring along, like courage, laughter, creativity, and love.

And so as we slowly return to our work and to our routines we find things to be piled just as we left them.
Perhaps you are tentatively carrying a new energy as you face your tasks but you suspect it won’t last long.
Push away dark thoughts of defeat.
You don’t have to conquer a whole year at once.

Start small. Celebrate progress.
Turn down the future’s invitation trying to pull you into anxiety.
Say no to the past’s whispers dragging you into regret.
Refuse to rehearse your failures again. Remember you don’t need those anymore.
Accept the invitation of Jesus who lives with you in this moment, inviting you to be present, to be loved, and to be fully yourself.

O God, remind us that ultimately, You are the clarity we long for, the answer we need, and the confidence we seek.
No matter how things turn out, You are our surest resolution.

As we stand on tip-toe and allow our eyes to gaze into the future of what might be, give us the assurance that you are with us in what is right now.

For the last several years, I’ve been writing down the titles of books I finish. Then, at the end of the year, I pick 10 favorites and make a list for you here. (I’ll include the last four years at the bottom of the post) This is one of my favorite posts to write all year!

I’ll list them here in no particular order.

Note: This year’s list has a disproportionate amount of books written either by people I know in real life or books I was required to read for school (and loved). It’s a season of life kind of thing, where I only have time to read books that are either assigned or written by those I’m thrilled to support. But rest assured they are only on this list if they are loved!

All of the “about the book” descriptions come directly from the Amazon book summaries where I am a grateful affiliate, followed by a short explanation of why I loved it. Let’s talk books!

About the book: “To encounter Jesus daily and have a relationship with Him changes everything; our focus becomes eternal. Experience Jesus in such a way that His love-drenched, others-focused nature shapes your character. The spiritual practices in each chapter will challenge you to go deeper with Him.”

Why I loved it: Before she was my teacher, Jan was already on the fast track to becoming one of my favorite contemporary voices in spiritual formation. But now that I’ve spent time with her and had the honor of being one of her students, I’m sold. Her writing is clear, practical, and always brings me closer to our friend Jesus.

About the book: “For so many people, reading isn’t just a hobby or a way to pass the time–it’s a lifestyle. Our books shape us, define us, enchant us, and even sometimes infuriate us. Our books are a part of who we are as people, and we can’t imagine life without them. I’d Rather Be Reading is the perfect literary companion for everyone who feels that way.”

Why I loved it: I read this book as a reward to myself after meeting a huge deadline and it was the perfect companion. Reading each short essay felt like unwrapping a delightful gift of warm nostalgia – a book-lovers dream book.

About the book: “Cozy Minimalism isn’t about going without or achieving a particular new, modern style. Nope. It’s simply a mindset that helps you get whatever style you love with the fewest possible items.”

Why I loved it: I loved this book because applying the decorating principles I learned from it actually changed the way I live in our house. My sunroom went from being my least favorite room in our house to my most favorite within days after learning the cozy minimalist way. I didn’t have to take out a loan, sell my birthright, or win the lottery to make the changes. We have enough to fight against in this world. Our homes should be the last place on earth where we feel shame. I’m so grateful for this beautiful, life-giving book.

About the book: “Foster examines the streams of living water –– the six dimensions of faith and practice that define Christian tradition. He lifts up the enduring character of each tradition and shows how a variety of practices, from individual study and retreat to disciplines of service and community, are all essential elements of growth and maturity. Foster examines the unique contributions of each of these traditions and offers as examples the inspiring stories of faithful people whose lives defined each of these streams.”

Why I loved it: This was an assigned book for my course called History and Traditions of Christian Spiritual Formation and I loved every word of this thick book. The kind and compassionate way Foster approaches each of the six traditions is thorough, creative, and insightful. He handled the discussion of strengths and weaknesses of each stream with grace and respect.

About the book: “Podcaster Knox McCoy, co-host of The Popcast with Knox and Jamie, tells hilarious stories about how pop culture helped him answer life’s biggest questions. Through books, television, music and movies, Knox found many of the answers he was searching for about God and why we’re all here.”

Why I loved it: Another book I saved as a reward for meeting a deadline was this one and it was well worth the wait. It’s hard to write funny, but Knox has this skill in spades and I am here for it. This debut book is the perfect blend of humor, thoughtful reflection, and Generation X/Millennial pop culture references. Fantastic read.

About the book: “Indestructible tells the shocking story of a marriage that didn’t go as planned, the truth that shattered everything, and the beautiful unfolding of a woman who decided that saving her marriage wasn’t worth losing herself.”

Why I loved it: You know those books that you pick up and then you don’t put down until you’ve finished? That’s why I loved this book. Ally is a real life friend of mine and reading her story was an honor and a gift. If you’re looking for a well-written, heartfelt page turner, this is the book for you.

About the book: “For Christ-followers living in an increasingly complicated world, it can be easy to feel overwhelmed and unsure of how to live a life of intention and meaning. Where do we even begin? Shannan offers a surprisingly simple answer: uncover the hidden corners of our cities and neighborhoods and invest deeply in the lives of people around us.”

Why I loved it: In a world where hope seems dim and solutions feel complicated and partisan, Shannan offers us a starting point that is as radical as it is domestic: widen your circle, hush your mouth, and pay close attention. This book is the right book for this moment in time and I simply cannot get over it. I either laughed or cried on almost every page. We need these lyrical, prophetic words now more than ever before.

About the book: “Chief Inspector Armand Gamache of the Surêté du Québec and his team of investigators are called in to the scene of a suspicious death in a rural village south of Montreal. Jane Neal, a local fixture in the tiny hamlet of Three Pines, just north of the U.S. border, has been found dead in the woods. The locals are certain it’s a tragic hunting accident and nothing more, but Gamache smells something foul in these remote woods, and is soon certain that Jane Neal died at the hands of someone much more sinister than a careless bowhunter.”

Why I loved it: One of the precious few fiction books I read this year, the Inspector Gamache series is one I’m so grateful to have found. It’s mystery! It’s small town! It’s cozy murder! (Is that a terrible phrase?) This is the first book of the series and I’ve only read this one and the next one. I have the whole series queued up for reading once I graduate.

About the book: “Why would the pastor of a large and successful church risk everything in a quest to find a richer, deeper, fuller Christianity? In Water To Wine Brian Zahnd tells his story of disenchantment with pop Christianity and his search for a more substantive faith.”

Why I loved it: Zahnd does exactly what the descriptions says – walks the reader through his quest to find a richer, deeper, fuller Christianity. Spoiler alert: he finds it. Ever since attending his Prayer School last spring, I’ve incorporated his morning prayer liturgy (included in this book) to my morning routine and it has been one of the most transformative parts of my year.

About the book: “New Life Fellowship in Queens, New York, had it all: powerful teaching, dynamic ministries, an impressive growth rate, and a vision to do great works for God.

Things looked good—but beneath the surface, circumstances were more than just brewing. They were about to boil over, forcing Peter Scazzero to confront needs in his church and himself that went deeper than he’d ever imagined. What he learned about the vital link between emotional health, relational depth, and spiritual maturity can shed new light on painful problems in your own church.”

Why I loved it: This was another required read for school, this time for a course I just finished called Formation Through Struggle. I loved this book first because Leighton Ford wrote the foreword and I adore everything Leighton Ford puts his name on.

Second, after reading this book I believe it should be required for every church leader there ever was or will be. In our North American church culture, we idolize success in the form of the glittering image at the expense emotional health. This book is the antidote for our success addiction.

Finally, a bonus book because it’s my website and I can share if I want to: here’s the reason why I wasn’t able to read more books this year:

It’s because I wrote one of my own!

I hope you’ll add The Next Right Thing to your wishlist for 2019 or, even better, give your future self a gift and pre-order a copy today.

If the price drops between now and release day on April 2, you’ll be charged the lowest price.

There you have it! My favorite books I read (and wrote) in 2018.

As you make your own lists of books to read in 2019, perhaps you’ll add a few of my favorites into the mix. To give you more to choose from, I’ll include my 10 favorite books from the past four years below.

If you would like to receive a monthly list of the books I’m reading, enter your name below and you’ll receive my most recent letter on the last day of every month. Happy reading!

I send out a secret letter to my readers one time a month. Want to get it?

I’m all about helping you create space for your soul to breathe, starting with your inbox. Over 33,000 people trust me with their email address. I will never send spam or photos of bare feet. You have my word on this.

My Top 10 Favorite Books From Years Past:

In an effort so serve those who aren’t podcast listeners (and satisfy my relentless need to experiment) I’m sharing a story from The Next Right Thing Podcast here on the blog. If you’d prefer to listen, tune in to Episode 63: Make Room.

We woke up this morning to a cold, quiet house, fresh snow falling on top of yesterday’s impressive accumulation. The power went out sometime around midnight.

John carried in wood and boiled water for coffee. I emptied the fridge of perishables and packed them in ice. We read by the light of candles and our fireplace, with blankets on our laps, hands wrapped around mugs of hot instant coffee.

Then I outlined a podcast episode with a pen on actual paper so we’re basically homesteaders now.

On Sunday as the snow fell and more kids started to show up at our house, looking for a place to sit and hot chocolate to drink, John suggested we push the sofa back from the rug. It will make more room, he said. We can spread out, he said. And so we did. We pushed back the furniture to make more room.

Making room doesn’t just happen. We have to do it on purpose.

In the end we would get over a foot of snowfall in one day, the third largest recorded in one day in central North Carolina. This snow wouldn’t leave a clean white blanket on our front lawn. Instead the photos show a mostly white scene with rusty brown leaves dotting the ground because this is an early snow for us.

In December, the trees aren’t quite finished shedding their leaves yet. So when an early snowfall comes and the wind picks up, they make room to hold the snow on branches by letting go their leaves.

Like Rahab, whose name means broad, large, a vast space of land; who betrayed her own people to assist the people of God, who made room for spies to find protection from capture, danger, and death, we, too, make room for righteousness and goodness to come take up residency within us.

Like Mary, the mother of God, who had never known a man, who had other plans for her life, who never asked for the choosing, we make room for the Holy interruption to come and weave life in unexpected ways at an unplanned time for the sake of an unknown people.

Like the trees in my front yard shedding brown leaves as snow comes too much too soon, we make room for something new even though it comes too fast, even though it might feel dangerous, even though we aren’t quite ready.

We make room.

This weekend we made room in the fridge for extra food, room in our schedule for kids to miss three days of school and for extra kids to come over andsled.

Today I make room for peace even though chaos ensues. I make room for hope even though my to do list is longer than my not-to-do list.

Maybe your next right thing for today is to consider where you might need to make some room.

Is there a room in your house you need to prepare — to take the boxes from the corner and cover the bed with fresh sheets to make space for a guest?

Is there good, important work hiding beneath the clutter on your desk, keeping you distracted from your calling?

Are there clothes in your closet that no longer fit your body or your life stage?

Are you holding on to an old dream, a former relationship, a worn-out worry that’s taking up too much space and cluttering up your heart?

Might you be willing to create space and make room for something new?

Is it time? Are you ready?

During Advent, it’s true we wait expectantly. It’s also true we’re preparing for an arrival.

What does preparation look like for you today? Might it include creating some space? Making some room? Clearing some clutter, not just the kind you can see?

O God give us eyes to see the extra things we no longer need, both the kind we can touch and the kind invisible.

Be our counselor as we discern our next right thing.

Be our priest as we confess the clutter we’ve allowed to crowd the way.

Be our midwife as we steward new birth.

Be our courage as we dare to be ruthlessly honest and relentlessly gentle with ourselves.

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit: as it was in the beginning is now, and will be forever.

Amen. Hallelujah.

If you want some daily help to create space for your soul during December, The Quiet Collection for Christmas is available through Tuesday December 11. For less than a dollar a day, we’ll deliver an audio devotional to your email inbox everyday until Christmas. Learn more here.

If you’re visiting from The Next Right Thing Podcast, welcome! We do this every quarter and will share our next list (What We Learned in Winter) on Thursday, February 28. Grab your free printable list here to help you keep track and plan to share with us then. Now you can also share your list on Instagram using #wwlcommunity.

Welcome to What We Learned, where we pause to reflect on the past season before we move ahead into the future.

At the end of this post, you’re invited to link up to your own list of what you learned this quarter – be it silly, serious, sacred, or just plain useful. I like to share a mix of all of those.

When I link to books, I use my affiliate links which means if you make a purchase a tiny percentage helps support the work I do here at no extra cost to you. Now here are things I learned this fall in no particular order:

2. Wednesday youth group night is good for our marriage.

John was a youth pastor for the first 12 years of our marriage so he spent every Wednesday night working. He’s been out of youth ministry for over five years and this year all three of our kids go to Wednesday night youth group. What used to be one of our busiest nights of the week has now become a date night. It’s basically the best.

We think things will always be the way they always were. And then time passes and everything is different.

3. Listening to friends read their own book is a delight.

My dear friend, Annie Downs, had a book come out a few months ago called Remember God. I knew I didn’t have sit-down-and-read time on my schedule this season, but I for sure had pop-in-my-earbuds-on-the-go time. Listening to my friend read her own story in her own voice was a gift and I’m so grateful for it.

4. If a show has cliffs and water, a beautiful soundtrack, and British accents, I’m probably going to love it.

John and I discovered Poldark this fall and it’s the show we hate to love (love to hate?) It’s maddening and beautiful and compelling and repetitive and I can’t get enough of it.

5. “The world is a basket of clues about what the kingdom of God is like.”

Lauren Winner said that during a plenary talk at a conference at my school and I haven’t stopped thinking about it. God is a clue-weaver, dropping hints and leaving love notes all over our everyday, ordinary lives.

6. Friendships that start online don’t have to stay there.

(Someone wasn’t listening to instructions here. It’s fine.)

Seriously, though, Shannan and I have talked for years about how John and Cory would be friends if only they could meet in real life. In October, it happened! Here we are with all our kids. They really did have fun I promise.

7. Suddenly I cannot handle owning clothes with colorful patterns.

I don’t have a capsule wardrobe, a uniform, or a minimalist style by any stretch of the imagination. But this fall I cleared my closet of clothes I didn’t wear and noticed a pattern (literally).

Ignore the fact that I kept way more than I got rid of. Until I decided to pay attention, I had not noticed that I just don’t wear floral patterns anymore. This will, I’m sure, keep me from buying something that catches my eye but I won’t actually wear.

See how reflection can save you money?!

8. I love to write books.

While I have known this since 2009 when I started work on my first book, this fall I wrote my fifth book and remembered all over again the joy of deep, undistracted creative work. I want more of that in 2019.

Today I’m glad to host author Ashley Hales in this space. She writes about home, belonging, and how to find God, even in the tract homes of the suburbs in her book, Finding Holy in the Suburbs.

Finding the sacred in the midst of everyday things may not be a new conversation, but we always need new voices telling us old things. I wrote the foreward for this one and can say with confidence that Ashley Hales is one of those important new voices and I’m thrilled to share her words with you here today.

I rush through my bedroom: scooping up stray bobby bins, putting away the earrings I’ve left on my dresser, scowling at the rogue sandal who’s mate I’ve already given away but haven’t bothered to do anything about this one that turned up unexpectedly. The laundry is folded but stacked on top of drawers. The odds and ends I stuck in a brown paper grocery sack still rests at the bottom of my bed. Suddenly, the mess has become too much. It must be tamed.

Perhaps if my bedroom is picked up, my soul will quiet down too.

I rearrange the tottering pile of books on my bedside table. I think: It would be nice to slip into bed with one of the books, shirking my mothering and writing duties for the day. I’d ease myself into a world of words, like slipping my sore body into a hot bath. And yet, here I am — the rush and hurry leading the way.

I stop to look out the window of my suburban bedroom. The tract home roofs pile up, I look to the hills and see a tinge of color in the trees. My arms full with stuff — I ache, then, for the changing seasons of Salt Lake City — how I’d lay down on the grass of our front yard and watch the yellow trees sway overhead, brilliant against blue sky.

I loved watching how a particular plant would change season to season, framed as it was from our bedroom window. I remember our city walks, the hiking in gloriously golden aspens in fall, the bundling up and the skiing in winter, the way the city awoke each spring and how people said hello on their porches on hot summer nights.

But I am here now, my arms piled of books and clothes to put away in my suburban bedroom.

My soul is cluttered.

Like practicing scales, I rehearse a familiar story. It’s easy to wish for a different time, a different landscape. That somehow “over there” or “back then” or “when I’m…” will satisfy all our longings for home and belonging. It’s tempting to idealize one bite-sized piece of geography — city, suburb, countryside, small town — and not learn how to love a place. Will I be able to take this long slow walk in the same direction of belonging?

I look all of it in the eye. I let myself fall into nostalgia and I repeat suburban tropes — that suburbanites are shallow or only care about their safety. Yet, upon second glance, I see how I, too, will rifle through the dollar spot at Target to try to be seen. I understand how granite countertops might make us feel like we belong. I understand this search for beauty and how I want it to be as easy as fitting into a smaller pair of jeans.

Yet, I know the God of the cosmos welcomes us into a belonging that isn’t contingent on the size of our home, our bank account, or our dress size. It is this spaciousness of God (which, as C. S. Lewis wrote, is bigger on the inside than on the outside) where we will find home.

And yet. There is still the ache of all the lives we have not lived. There is the ache of goodbye. And there is the ache of unknowing. Most of all, perhaps, there is the tasks of the day — the washing up, the picking up of bobby pins and laundry piles, the walking to and from school — that orient not only our bodies, but our hearts.

I know places form our loves.

How do I — how do you — begin to really belong to our places? How might we love our particular streets even while seeing the ways we’re unconsciously turned in on ourselves? How do we learn to be open, broken, and given for our places? Where might we feel free to drop the weight of pretending to have it all securely gathered up in our arms?

We embrace gentle and slow disciplines of staying put and starting small.

So on a day when my soul is as frenzied as my bedroom floor, I choose to learn how to belong here. I walk my walking paths. My husband and I clutch coffee mugs and walk our children to school. We meet neighbors. We welcome people into our local church. We show up. I look at all the quirks of my suburban setting in the eye. I name the beauty and the brokenness.

Now, this is my one precious spot of earth I am called to be poured out for. This cul-de-sac is where I will see the glory of God. Not in the golden aspens or green mountain glory; no. Yet, I will choose to find God in the glory of this ordinary making of dinner, in our soccer schedules, in the grace of another day, in people’s faces who are broken and beautiful images of the God who wrapped himself in flesh to be near us.

We start small and we stay put. We do the things we always do — we wake, we do our good work, we make the coffee, we pray to the God who sees, the God who embraces and clothes our failures and preening. Here, in the middle of a suburban tract home, I’ve come to the end of myself and it is very good.

I put the bobby pins in their drawer, I name the loss and yet pray for the grace to live well right here. Might finding holy in the suburbs start right here in the ordinary, and lead into a spaciousness of body and soul that’s bigger on the inside than on the outside? I straighten the teetering piles and pray it be so.

Ashley Hales holds a PhD in English from the University of Edinburgh, Scotland. She’s a writer, speaker, the wife to a church planter in the southern California suburbs and mother to four.

When John brings a bouquet home from the grocery store, the routine is almost always the same.

He takes those long stems still gathered in v-shaped plastic and sticks them in a drinking glass filled one inch with water, still held together with a twice-wrapped rubber band.

When I see this tightly wound love offering displayed in my kitchen, I know it’s my turn.

Cut the rubber band. Remove the plastic. Separate the stems. Throw out any baby’s breath (ew). Find the right container. Trim the stems. Arrange. Display. Enjoy.

Last year on Valentines Day, it was this same routine, long stems in a drinking glass left for me to cut and arrange.

Those flowers died a week or so later but the greenery hung on. And on and on. So long that now it’s October and just this week, the greenery from my Valentines Day flowers finally started to turn to yellow.

These stems have no business still being here. They weren’t meant to last through February, much less see all of spring, live on through summer, and now all the way into fall.

It’s so regular but it’s also kind of blowing my mind.

I realize that, in recent years especially in the corners of the Internet around which I run, it’s become the “in” thing to see the beauty in the everyday things: to notice, to slow, to pay close attention. I know some people roll their eyes about all that, make cynical Saturday Night Live-like sketches in their heads about the gift to be found in the orb of a bubble of dish soap.

Personally? I love everything about this movement to notice, to see, to finally pay attention.

I believe this is a step in the right direction and I am here for it in every single way. How can we possibly live our lives grateful or content if we don’t first notice the life we are actually living? How can we begin to move gracefully toward the people around us without stomping all over their nuance if we don’t first take the time to listen and see?

This is step one. This is breathing in and out, noticing the world spinning around us, noticing ourselves as we spin.

But this is only step one. When it comes to step two and beyond, things can get fuzzy at best, heavy and hopeless at worst. How can noticing the moments we’re living begin to change anything in this broken open world?

This is where I begin to look for teachers, people for whom paying attention is making a difference, mentors who tell me how paying attention is changing the world.

Maybe our country is divided more than ever or maybe it’s always been this way and we’re finally talking about it I don’t know. But here’s what I do know: conversations are hard and solutions can feel complicated and that can cause us all to numb out, shut it down, and dive deep into distraction.

And this is where step one can lead us into step two if we’re willing.

“We might have a zillion reasons to be jaded about our world, but that is not the kind of person I want to be. I want to be someone who clings to the grace and the gift and the good. Rather than spend my days scanning the digital horizon for a dopamine hit of false comfort, I want to keep my ear tuned to the groanings of my place.” — Shannan Martin, The Ministry of Ordinary Places

In Shannan Martin, I have found my teacher. You will not see her face on the side of a tour bus. You will not see her on Oprah’s Super Soul Sunday (at least, not yet). But if you’re looking for a step beyond paying attention, I hope you’ll find her book.

Because in a world where hope seems dim and solutions feel complicated and partisan, Shannan offers us a starting point that is as radical as it is domestic: widen your circle, hush your mouth, and lock eyes with the world you’re in.

And this is where I tell you how I wish, just for today, I had never met Shannan Martin.

Because she has written a book that is, in my opinion, one of the best books of 2018, and I worry you will think because she is my friend, that somehow it discounts my opinion of her writing, her message, and her brilliance.

Here’s what you need to know: My love for Shannan’s writing came first.

I read her before I knew her, I followed her before I met her, and I was influenced by her before we ever stood side-by-side and I realized how tall she is in real life.

She often says she found her voice in the country and her story in the city and I was there for all of it. I read as a stranger from hundreds of miles away when she wrote from her flower patch in Indiana and I fell, head over heels, with the way she could turn a phrase.

But slowly, over time, the gospel of Jesus turned her upside down and her writing changed as she did – the wells deeper, the voice richer, the courage more pronounced.

Her second book, The Ministry of Ordinary Places, releases into the world today and I have a hunch that if Shannan was a stranger to me, maybe you would trust me more when I tell you how much I loved this book.

This is the right book for this moment in time and I simply cannot get over it. I either laughed or cried on almost every page. We need these lyrical, prophetic words now more than ever before.

Because it’s one thing to see the tightly wound love offering in one inch of water. But it’s another thing altogether to engage it, to cut the rubber band, remove the plastic, separate the stems. Shannan shows us how.

“Living an on-the-ground, available-and-engaged, concerned-for-our-neighbors lifestyle . . . means we’ll have to unlearn what we’ve wrongly absorbed about how people are and what they deserve.”

— Shannan Martin

This book will be a kind friend to you if you have ever:

felt broken hearted over the state of the world but don’t know where to begin to make a difference

wanted to hide in the hallway when someone knocks on your front door

wriggled in your seat at the back of the church because you’re not getting anything out of the sermon anymore

This book taught me how to see, how to stay, and how to get over myself. I’m grateful to Shannan for living her one life well and writing it all down.

Shannan Martin is a speaker and writer who found her voice in the country and her story in the city.

She and her jail-chaplain husband, Cory, have four funny children who came to them across oceans and rivers.

Welcome to What We Learned, where we pause to reflect on the past season before we move ahead into the future. At the end of this post, you’re invited to link up to your own list of what you learned this quarter – be it silly, serious, sacred, or just plain useful. I like to share a mix of all of those.

If you’re visiting for the first time from my podcast The Next Right Thing, welcome! We do this every quarter and will share our next list (What We Learned in Fall) on Friday, November 30. Grab your free printable list here to help you keep track and plan to share with us then. Now you can also share your list on Instagram using #wwlcommunity.

When I link to books, I use my affiliate links which, if you make a purchase means a tiny percentage helps support the work I do here at no extra cost to you. Now here are things I learned this summer in no particular order:

1. Making a To-Read list is my new stress reliever.

Because most of my reading is required reading right now, I have had to pause moving through my personal to-read list. But adding books to the list is comforting and gives hope that pleasure reading will come again!

2. Saying yes to collaboration just might lead you home.

Next week’s episode of The Next Right Thing is all about this (look for Episode 49: Collaborate coming September 4) but for now I’ll simply say collaboration doesn’t have to trigger memories of seventh grade group projects but can, in fact, help you become a more true and grounded version of yourself.

3. I know I’ve heard from God when I don’t feel ashamed and I’m not afraid.

Those are words are tweaked from Myrna Craig, as quoted on page 22 of Jan Johnson’s book, When the Soul Listens. Myrna actually said guilty instead of ashamed but I do think there’s an important distinction to make between guilt and shame. Guilt says I did wrong. Shame says I am wrong. So I changed the quote a bit to reflect that.

Still, I know that might not be exactly what we’ve grown up to believe about God.

But the more I walk with Jesus, the more I have come to believe that when he really wants me to know something, guilt and fear are not his way. His way may be corrective and disciplinary, but it’s always laced with the comfort of his love.

4. “There is enough for me and there is enough for you, too.”

My friend Jerome Daley said this at a workshop we hosted recently (you can learn more about Jerome here) and even though I’ve heard this sentence before, and even though I’ve said this sentence before, hearing him say it that Saturday morning when I was feeling particularly small and not in a good way, those words of abundance were just what I needed.

5. Thirty minute daily brainstorms are saving my life.

My idea brain hasn’t yet received the message that I’ve got stuff going on and I haven’t the time right now for new things. But it keeps generating ideas for every aspect of my work and I cannot possibly keep up.

Instead of slumping in discouragement with that constant feeling that things are falling through the cracks, I’ve decided to spend 30 minutes everyday to catch ideas on purpose. Here’s how:

Just before the timer goes off, write a short list of next actions to take

It’s not a perfect system (yet!) but it’s given me some relief from feeling like I’m missing things.

6. If you have serious writing to do, pick the shop with great coffee and bad WiFi.

This is self-explanatory. And all God’s people said Amen.

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I keep track of what I’m learning by using my seasonal reflection lists. You can get your own printable lists for tracking your reflections by signing up right here. If you’re new around here and want to know what, how, and tools to track what you’re learning, check out A New Page for Your Bullet Journal.

I’ve got 20 books here for you – some I’ve read, some I’m reading, some I hope to read, and some I have to read. Let’s get straight to it, shall we?

The books I link to here are affiliate links so if you grab one through my link, I’ll receive a small percentage at no extra cost to you. These are things I have to tell you. Now on to the sad tale of this first book.

We’ll start with the saddest book photo of all: the book that wasn’t meant to be (yet).

I took this photo of The Cruelest Month by Louise Penny in my driveway, right before I drove to the library to return it. I checked it out in April, renewed it in May, and finally returned it in late June.

I never had a chance to read it.

Here’s why.

It’s because I had 10 weeks to read these books for school and that leaves no room for Louise Penny. Seriously, I am thrilled to be learning this stuff but I do miss the extra space I used to have for fiction reading.

But do you see that stack of brilliant books?! Some have asked if I could list the books I’m reading for my Master’s program. This is only the summer stack, but here are the details in case you want to check them out for yourself. So here are the details of the books pictured above.

Books I’m Reading for School

For those interested, these books are for two classes: Intro to Spiritual Direction and History and Traditions of Christian Spiritual Formation.

Books I Found at the Goodwill

In spite of myself, when visiting the Goodwill, I still manage to wander past the color coded t-shirts and four aisles of colorful, misfit glassware and end up in front of the dusty shelves, searching for a good find, imaging my future self with time to spare and a book in hand.

Garden Spells by Sarah Addison Allen — Love this author and I thought I had read this one but then when I read the back cover (something I usually try to avoid on fiction books – they give away too much!) I realized maybe I haven’t read it after all.

Black Heels to Tractor Wheels: A Love Story by Ree Drummond — Remember when Ree told this whole story via small installments on her blog?! It was so exciting to see what was coming next. I never read the book that resulted from that blog series. Hence, this purchase.

The Summer Before the War: A Novel by Helen Simonson — A classic case of I think I’ve heard good things about this book. I’ve at least seen the cover everywhere. I think I’ll get it just incase. As it turns out, the place I’ve seen the cover is on my bookshelf. In my house. In the paperback version. Oh well.

Books that Haven’t Come Out Yet

These books aren’t released yet, but you can pre-order all of them now. Of these, I’ve read The Ministry of Ordinary Places so far and look forward to the other two!

Holy Hustle: Embracing a Work-Hard, Rest-Well Life by Crystal Stine – This is one of those books I’ve been looking forward to for a while as Crystal is a friend who is passionate about this sacred work of holy hustle, two words that don’t often go together. Can’t wait to see how she unpacks them for us.

Hannah Coulterby Wendell Berry – After I finished Jayber Crow, I’ve wanted to read Hannah Coulter. In fact, many people tole me they started with Hannah first. I found this copy at a church book sale and it made my whole week.

And a bonus book I have to mention because I’m so excited about it is one I’ve already read, lived, and endorsed.